Goodbye, Brother Mine
by VibeQuake
Summary: Mycroft's POV during THAT scene in The Final Problem. MAJOR spoilers for the episode.


"Please, for God's sake, just stop it." Sherlock turned away from me, though I could still see his almost expressionless face.

"Why?" I asked, knowing the answer full-well.

"Because, on balance, even your Lady Bracknell was more convincing."

A small smirk came over my face. That was my Sherlock; always observant, always knowing.

"Ignore everything he just said," Sherlock said to the very confused Doctor Watson. "He's being kind. He's trying to make it easy for me to kill him."

I could almost feel Doctor Watson's shocked and scared gaze piercing me. I reached up to touch my forehead, still smirking at Sherlock, as he added, "Which is why this is going to be so much harder."

He turned the gun around to aim at me.

I had been faced with guns many times in my life, several of them in the last couple of hours. Most notably was when Sherlock had attempted to hand a gun to me so that I could kill an unarmed and innocent man. But I would never have done that. I COULD never have done it. Call it a conscience or call it cowardice, I refused to even take the gun.

It made me feel just a little better when I saw that even former soldier Doctor Watson could not shoot the governor, though not by much; he had actually had the courage to take the gun.

But now, standing in front of my brother, who was about to kill me, all I could say was, "You said you liked my Lady Bracknell."

"Sherlock, don't!" John pleaded.

"It's not your decision, Doctor Watson," I told him gently. Looking back at my younger brother, I attempted a smile. "Not in the face, though, please. I've promised my brain to the Royal Society."

Sherlock looked both resigned _and_ amused. "Where would you suggest?

"Well…" I fiddled with my tie, unsure of what else to do. "I suppose there is a heart somewhere inside me. I don't imagine it's much of a target-." I saw Sherlock grin at that. "-but why don't we try for that?"

Doctor Watson strode forwards, getting in between Sherlock and me. "I won't allow this!"

"This is my fault," I said quietly, glancing up at Sherlock with my eyes. "Moriarty."

His interest spiked immediately. "Moriarty?"

"Her Christmas treat." I hated having to admit that I had indirectly caused all of this, but as I was about to die, I decided Sherlock and John might as well know. "Five minutes conversation with Jim Moriarty, five years ago."

"What did they discuss?" asked Sherlock.

I again hated to admit this, but I had to clarify. "Five minutes conversation…" I hesitated for a few seconds. "…unsupervised."

Sherlock sighed, as I knew he would. John looked away from me, clearly disappointed in me. Somehow, that hurt me.

Attempting to downplay my fear, I straightened up. "Goodbye, brother mine."

Sherlock's eyebrows knitted in anguish.

"No flowers." I gave him a brief smile. "My request."

There was silence as he struggled with carrying out the task. I tried to smile again to reassure him, but my face didn't want to respond. All I could do was stand upright and keep my eyes on my little brother, wanting him to be the final face I saw.

Eurus's voice sounded over the speakers: "Jim Moriarty thought you'd make this choice."

I sighed internally. _Of course he did._

"He was so excited," Eurus added, looking…not quite gleeful, but almost there.

The lights turned red again, bathing everyone's faces in the colour of the blood that would soon burst from my body. Jim Moriarty's voice filled the room: "So here we are: the end of the line."

Sherlock closed his eyes briefly, almost flinching at hearing his old enemy's voice again.

"Holmes killing Holmes."

I swallowed nervously, emotion showing on my face for the first time. I looked over at Moriarty's mocking face on the screen.

"This is where I get off."

Finally, the lights turned back to normal. I forced myself to look straight at Sherlock, whose his face displayed similar emotions to mine. He also seemed to be disappointed in me.

"Five minutes," he said under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. "Took her just five minutes to do all this to us."

I saw the gun shudder slightly, and I knew he was going to do it. He was finally going to do the right thing and shoot me, shoot me to save Doctor Watson. I stole a glance at him. He still looked anguished and ready to do something, but there wasn't anything he could do for this.

This was the end of my line, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

I watched Sherlock for a moment longer, and found him glancing at Doctor Watson, clearly for reassurance. I gave a small smile and whispered, "Look after him," so quietly that neither of them heard me.

I closed my eyes and waited for the end.

But instead of hearing the gunshot and feeling my life end, I heard Sherlock say, "Well, not on my watch."

I opened my eyes in surprise and saw Sherlock retracting the gun. He hadn't killed me after all. Part of me was glad, because I rather liked living. But part of me was worried.

What would this mean for him in Eurus's plan?


End file.
